


Home Is Where the Heart(beat) Is

by anonymousdaredevils



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Curtain Fic, Domestic Fluff, Literal Curtainfic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 19:46:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4234305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymousdaredevils/pseuds/anonymousdaredevils
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt and Foggy go curtain shopping for Matt's place.</p><p>It could've gone better. (But then again, it could've gone worse.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home Is Where the Heart(beat) Is

**Author's Note:**

> For this [Daredevil Kink Meme prompt](http://daredevilkink.dreamwidth.org/2760.html?thread=5083080#cmt5083080).

“This is soft,” Matt suggested.

“No.”

“What about -” Matt began.

“ _No_. I really wish your attractive-things radar worked on fabric so you’d stop picking things that look like Jackson Pollock on a bad day.”

“It’s not a radar, Foggy. I took my cues from their confidence and _your_ reactions to them.”

Foggy turned to gape at him. “You are _such_ an asshole! Why do I put up with you?”

Matt smirked. “Because you love me.”

Sighing, Foggy slung an arm around his shoulders to pull him close and kiss his cheek. “Dammit. Yes, yes I do.”

 

Twenty minutes later:

“How about -”

“For the love of _god_ , Murdock, _fuck_ no!”

 

Huffing, Matt threw his arms up in the air, narrowly missing hitting someone with the end of his cane in his exasperation. (Narrowly, because yes, he was distracted; missed, because he still had _some_ semblance of control.) “Every single one you’ve been picking out feels horrible!” he complained.

To some extent, he knew he was simply being tetchy. It was just a curtain; it wasn’t that important. But they’d been here for nearly an hour already, and an hour of being trapped in a home furnishings store full of bickering couples, bored children, and squeaking trolleys was a recipe for frayed nerves.

“It’s a _window_ covering! I don’t think you’re going to be feeling up the curtains every night!” Foggy retorted. “At _most_ , you’ll brush right past them!”

“We never have anyone but Karen over anyway, so why does it matter how they look?” Matt demanded.

“Because _I’ll_ have to look at it, and I _don’t_ want to get home after twelve hours at work to a goddamn Spongebob Squarepants curtain lit up by that damn billboard like an unholy advertisement from Hell!”

Television obviously didn’t mean much to Matt, and he spent exactly no time around children unless he was rescuing one, but the reference was not lost on him; there was really no escaping the pervasiveness of the cartoon.

After a few seconds of trying to hold onto his temper, he gave up and collapsed into giggles, relieved when Foggy laughed with him. “All right, you have a point,” he admitted. “No Spongebob.”

“And no Jackson Pollock.”

“And no Jackson Pollock,” Matt agreed with an amused smile. Foggy’s hatred of Pollock was such that he’d once purchased a small, three-dimensional imitation of one of the artist’s pieces just so Matt could feel how chaotic and insensible the splashes of paint were.

Another infant’s shriek from across the floor pierced the air then, sharp enough to Matt’s sensitive hearing to make him reflexively cringe. Covering his ear with one hand, he gave Foggy a desperate look. “Foggy, I really, _really_ don’t care at this point. Can’t we compromise on a nice solid that doesn’t feel scratchy and get out of here?”

Foggy groaned. “You _vetoed_ all of the solids, except for the ones outside of our price range!”

“So we trim the budget somewhere else and splurge on this one,” Matt coaxed. “Come on, Foggy. Can we please just - just pick something and get out of here?”

Foggy peered around them before looking back at Matt and softening. “You’re dying, aren’t you?” he asked sympathetically, stepping closer to cover Matt’s ears with his own hands and pull him closer. “ _Idiot_ \- tell me before it gets this bad.”

Matt made a noncommittal noise, feeling guilty about whinging. He couldn’t, however, resist the offer, and gladly buried his face against Foggy’s shoulder. He took the opportunity to focus on the dual perception of that well-loved heartbeat: the steady _ba-dump… ba-dump…_ he could hear from his chest and the matching pulse he could feel in his neck.

_Ba-dump… ba-dump…_

It took a few minutes, but Matt finally felt grounded enough to lift his head. He couldn’t quite make his hands let go of Foggy’s waist yet, though. He knew they were probably making a scene, snuggling in the middle of the aisle, but judging by the steadiness of Foggy’s heart and the lack of heat in his skin, he wasn’t the least bit arsed about it.

“Hey,” Foggy greeted him in a quiet tone, kissing his temple gently. “How about we get out of here and just go to a fabric store tomorrow? We’ll pick out something simple and soft, and I’ll just sew one end to fit around a curtain rod. That sound good?”

“Since when do you sew?” Matt asked without thinking, too tired to immediately remember -

Foggy’s heart jumped, but his voice was light and steady as he said, “There’s a first time for everything.”

\- _shaking hands carefully weaving a needle and thread through bloodied skin_ -

“Don’t diss my mad skills before they have a chance to exist.”

\- _steadier hands, practiced hands, resecuring a torn stitch_ -

“I’m going to make the most _boss_ curtains ever.”

Cursing silently, Matt slumped against Foggy again. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled against his neck. “I’m sorry you had to learn.”

Foggy gave a deep sigh. “I’m rolling my eyes at you,” he announced, hugging him tightly. “Seriously, no brooding. This is a happy occasion. I am _happy_ to hem our very first curtain together, okay? I will hem the _hell_ out of that curtain. It won’t know what hit it. It’ll be _awe_ -”

“I love you,” Matt blurted out.

“- some. And I love you, too,” Foggy added, bumping his temple gently with his own like a happy housecat. “C’mon, buddy. Let’s go home.”

 _Home_.

Wrapping his hands around Foggy’s elbow as they headed out, Matt leaned in close to his lover and smiled to himself. Foggy was happy and well, touching him, guiding him even knowing it was unnecessary, living with him, _loving_ him.

Matt was already home.


End file.
